Hell Raiser

The headline on the news this morning was 'HELL RAISER BRINGS VIGILANTE TO KNEES IN PUBLIC'.

I smile. He wasn't that hard to beat. Just some old man dressed like a bat. I take a sip of my coffee. I've been around for a while. And no one knows who I am. The only information about me the public knows is what the media tells them. So far the terror I've caused in this city has been substantial. I'm surprised people still live here. If I weren't me, I'd not even be in the same hemisphere. But I love doing what I do.

I live in a penthouse apartment in some golden city where half the population wipes their asses with velvet. Apart from the view, everything about this apartment is perfect. Nearly everything is black, from the floors, to the walls and the ceiling. Even the art work is black.

But my roommate's room is as white as her teeth. I barely go in there because I'm worried that I'd be blinded by the floors. She knows everything about me. What?! I have to tell someone. She wouldn't tell anyway. And that's even without me threatening to kill everyone she loves. She gets it. You might be thinking, 'hey man, ever slept with her?' And if you are, go to hell. No, I haven't. Nor will I. Last time I slept with a roommate, it got serious, then she went off to warm someone else's bed, and sent me a video of it. So I sent her a video of me incinerating all her clothes and shoes. And then I blew up the building. I moved shortly after.

I don't hate many people at all. I'm just a guy who likes hurting other, lamer guys. But my Ex is at the top of that very short list.

Occasionally, some nobody psycho will try to draw some attention away from the star of the show. They usually don't last very long. And anyone who gets close to finding out who I really am usually finds themselves in a penitentiary following a 'freak' police search. It's almost not funny how incriminating a few select photos are.

"Hey Crash, saw you on the news today." That's Violet, my sixteen year old roommate who was kicked out of her house for sleeping with the wrong man... and getting caught. "Nice work." She grins at me from the front door and comes into the lounge room. I notice that she hadn't changed out of her gym clothes. A blue sports bra and black yoga pants.

"Eh. He was old and slow. Almost to easy." I look up from my Holo-pad and see something in her purse. I nod to it. "What's that?"

She looks at her bag for a moment, purple hair swaying in a ponytail, temporarily confused. "Oh." She pulls out a few letters and a small purple box. "Mail." She goes through the letters one by one, most of them bills, the rest being payslips. She passes the box to me, almost gingerly. "It was addressed to you. To Hell Raiser."

I am immediately suspicious of the box. It could be an explosive. It might be poisonous gas. It might also be a new necklace, but chances are that it is one of the first two. Maybe even both. There's a lock-box in my room that I take it to. I put it inside and close the door. The box has mechanical hands that, when activated, move as mine move. The arms grasp the box and open it. Surprised that I didn't hear an explosion, I take a deep, shaky breath. I look in to the air tight, blast proof box and sigh in relief. There's a toxicity metre on the box in case there's an invisible gas, like propane. It currently reads zero.

I have one more test. The box has three layers of doors. To see how the purple box in the lock-box reacts with the natural air, I open then close one door at a time. When the third door is opened something happens...

I'm just kidding. Nothing happens. I was a bit disappointed myself. It is unbelievably tempting to put in some old fashion dynamite. Just to see it explode. But, sometimes there's a time and a place. I take out the box a inspect the contents.

I smile. "Now that's just ridiculous."

"What?" asks Violet. "What is it?" She comes over and jumps on my back to look over my shoulder. "Why would someone gift a necklace to a super villain?"

Why indeed. I take it out and turn it around in my hand. "Ah. Flash drive."

"What's on it?" she asks, still on my back.

I glance up at her. "Maybe it's got the latest boy band on it," I say sarcastically. I go over to where I left my Holo-pad and insert the drive.

After a few seconds decryption, I'm in. And what I see infuriates me. I nearly throw the bloody thing at the wall.

"What's wrong Crash?" asks Violet, who got off my back a second ago. Her face is covered in concern, velvet lips pouting as she looks at me with innocent, emerald eyes.

I show her the footage that plays on the screen. "I had an old friend named Solomon Kane." I take in a shaky breath. "That's him. Strung up and beaten bloody." A tear threatens to dissolve my emotionless mask. "Who would kill a good man." I catch the snap glance from Violet. "I only kill those who threaten my fame. And imprison those who would endanger our safety. I am justified."

"Never said you weren't."

Who would kill Solomon?

"Crash?!" She points at the pad. "You should read that."

I look at the screen and seethe.

A deep, modulated voice plays through the speakers. "Better watch the news, time for someone else to take centre stage"

I hand the pad to Violet. "Look through every single detail of the video. Any thing from time of day, to a speck of dirt. Even which way he hangs. And see if you can't decode that voice. I want to know everything by tomorrow night. I'm going out."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going hunting." Hold on you son of a bitch. I'm coming for you.